Dreamstrider (16 page)

“Oh, we have plenty of games. Arm and Leg, The Dead Man’s Wake, What the Tide Brought In … Problem is, all my Farthing friends have already mastered these games.” Marez’s eyes glint in the candlelight. “I need a new game I can crush them at.”

We both laugh at that, and I take a swig of ale. It scorches all the way down—burns away the dreary rain, Brandt’s cold departure, even the mangled corpse of Professor Hesse. I am Silke Grundtag tonight, and Silke’s life is a far merrier one than mine. “Make you a deal. I’ll teach you to play Stacks, and you teach me to play your Farthing games, so I can crush
my
friends.”

Marez juts his hand toward me. “Deal.” We shake, his soft skin curling the corners of my smile up even more.

We keep playing and joking until well into the evening; I excuse myself for the night only when a large group of students pay their tab, and wander along the streets with them for a time before cutting back to the Ministry barracks. Only the realization that I’d alerted neither Jorn nor Brandt of my evening plans keeps me from playing for several hours more. I’d been exposed—vulnerable to the Farthing operative, my determination to forget the day’s events my only barrier from letting him know the real me.

Yet didn’t he see the real Livia? He understood my dreams, he accepted me for my shortcomings in the field, and still he offered me his companionship. He sniffed me out as a former tunneler, and didn’t make me feel ashamed. Would a Farthinger forsake his life’s work as a spy because his family expected him to quit, expected him to marry? Would he let someone like Minister Durst hold his strings, forcing him to comply or lose his chance at leaving the tunnels once and for all? From what I’ve seen of Marez, I think Farthingers are far too determined for that. They never let themselves be beholden to anyone and are always in charge of their own fate. I want a fiery certainty like that.

My dreams that night are all jumbled—thoughts tangle together of Hesse and Marez and Brandt, shot through with alcohol. My dreams find me in a memory of the past—Hesse’s old office in the university basements, before they flooded and he moved to the twelfth floor. I’m digging through his old storage boxes in the dream, waiting to feel cold metal in the palm of my hand.
Surrender the key,
a voice tells me, echoing the note in Hesse’s office, but as soon as I think I’ve sorted out what it’s talking about, I awaken with no more answers than before.

Chapter Twelve

“Thanks to the records Livia and the Farthingers found in the ale hall, we have the proof we need to substantiate Lady Sindra Twyne’s treachery.” Minister Durst props himself against his desk and surveys the small team assembled in his office. “We arrested her last night, and she confessed to her conspiracy. She said she’s been working with the Commandant to overthrow the Emperor and conquer parts of Farthing as well. The girl, Martine, is her daughter with the original Commandant, and it is her deepest wish to see our two cultures united, as they are in her daughter’s blood.”

Vera crinkles her nose. “What a load of rubbish.”

“What about Nightmare?” I ask. “Trying to resurrect him?”

Durst shakes his head; the shadows under his eyes look even deeper than usual. “She seemed to know nothing about it. Swore up and down that she didn’t even believe in the Dreamer, much less Nightmare. Went on some rant about the Iron Winds as her new religion now—the Commandant as her god and savior of all mankind, and that his forces would be victorious over Barstadt and all the other realms.”

My throat constricts; the dark skull of Nightmare from my dreams looms in my mind. “No. No. She told me, when I was her daughter. I’m sure of what she said.”

Durst glances at me from the corner of his eyes. “Livia, my dear, I don’t doubt what you heard. But our interrogators are quite skilled, and she was more than willing to admit to far more serious things that guaranteed her a death sentence. Without further evidence, we can’t make a case for it. It’s too impossible to believe that Nightmare could be brought back to life—we have no proof.”

Edina Alizard, pen poised over a bound journal, leans forward in her chair. “When do we expect the execution to take place?”

“The Emperor is pushing for this evening.” Durst holds his hands up against our protests. “I know, I know. That isn’t nearly enough time to pursue further questioning. But he wants a swift example made of her, and she’s been quite forthcoming with everything we’ve asked. We would need an extremely good reason to convince him to delay.”

“It just smells off. Like the fish market after Tremmer’s month.” Brandt wrings his hands in his lap; I press my palm to his knee without thinking, then quickly pull it away. “She’s too proud and stubborn to surrender so easily. What’s her angle?”

“‘The face of death makes cowards of us all,’” Edina says, then looks down at her notes, cheeks coloring. “Sorry. One of my father’s sayings.”

Vera had been slumped against the wall farthest from Edina, but at that, she shoves off the wall with a roll of her eyes. “And what does your father say about traitors? I imagine the Alizard family knows all about being promise-breaking little—”

Brandt forces a loud cough, cutting Vera off. “What about this other plan of the Commandant’s? With the mystic?” he asks.

Minister Durst pinches his nose. “Again, she’s professed an irritatingly convincing ignorance on that front. She claims to know very little at all about the Commandant’s plans.”

“But she’s too smart,” Brandt says. “I’m certain there’s something more.”

“Well, we have agents watching her servants and known associates day and night, but there’s no indication a raven’s been sent, or anything else.”

“Did the Farthingers turn up any other leads in the logs we recovered from the ale house?” I ask. “Beyond confirming her dealings in the Land of the Iron Winds.”

“They’re still researching it, last we spoke, but nothing solid thus far.” Durst sighs. “Enough to give credence to her admission of colluding with the Commandant, but naught else.”

There must be some key element we aren’t factoring in. She couldn’t possibly have conducted this plan for five years or more without assistance from other aristocrats, could she? She’d named no names, assuming all responsibility herself. “There must be others she’s protecting,” I say, though my voice falters, betraying my uncertainty. “She’s speaking freely so that we keep our focus on her, instead of casting a wider net.”

“I considered that as well, but she insists she worked alone, with minimal help from sailors and the like to arrange her voyages to the Land. And we’ve no evidence, no shred of proof this extends any further into Barstadt.” Minister Durst leans back against his desk and presses knobby fingers to his temples. “All we have is the word of a traitor against … nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Vera groans; Brandt’s shoulders tense beside me. Edina’s pen taps frantically against her teeth.

I study the Minister’s map of Barstadt and her neighbors, and Marez’s check marks copied onto it. “The maps. Did Marez and Kriza find any links between them and Lady Twyne’s trades?”

Minister Durst scoops up a scrap of paper from his desk. “Yes, let me show what our precious alliance has won us. In addition to a hefty bill for damages dealt to the Shanty Ale Hall, we found no records to indicate that the Lady Twyne and the Commandant of the Land of the Iron Winds had smuggled any arms, advance guards, horses, or other elements of war into Barstadt. However, the map you all recovered from the manager’s office indicates that the plans for such an operation had been made. The map marked House Twyne’s estate at the northeast corner of the city, along Nightmare’s Spine, and the archeological site south of Birnau in the Land of the Iron Winds.”

“Oh!” Edina exclaims. “We received a report earlier this morning about Birnau. A dispatch from one of our sources inside the Land of the Iron Winds.” She flips through her notebook. “Looks like the Commandant has called an emergency meeting with all his generals at Birnau.”

Durst scrubs at his goatee. “Interesting. I wonder if the Commandant knows Lady Twyne’s been caught, then.”

“If he does, then the meeting might be to formulate a new battle plan,” Brandt says.

Vera groans. “Wonderful. Even the average Iron Winder can’t get into Birnau—it’s sealed up even tighter than the Citadel. Only the Commandant and his trusted advisers and staff are permitted within its walls. How in the nightmares are we supposed to peek inside?”

“I got Brandt and Livia into the Citadel safely,” Edina says, with more starch in her tone than usual. “I’m sure I can arrange it.”

Vera’s head cants to one side with unsettling precision. “Well, we all know how excellently you follow through on arrangements.”

“Miss Orban,” the minister says, low and slow. After a moment, Vera huffs and slumps back in her chair.

My gaze returns to the marks on the Minister’s map. Whatever Vera and Edina are bickering about now, I’ve not been privy to it; and I have other concerns to tend to. Like the pattern of the marks. They’re like a constellation, that strange network of slashes spun across the Central Realms. Do they mirror the stars: the Dreamer’s Embrace, the Clipper, the Star Ladle, the Questing Swine? I squint but can’t summon any sort of pig or outstretched arms from their arrangement.

Minister Durst buries his face in his hands; his ears burn crimson, and his chest heaves as he smothers the anger surely burning through him like a brushfire. “We can’t fall behind whatever the Commandant is planning next. As soon as we can make the necessary arrangements, I’m sending you all to Birnau.” Minister Durst lowers his hands and sucks in a deep breath. “All four of you.”

That snaps Edina and Vera to attention. “What?” they shriek, in flawless harmony.

“Brandt, Vera, you’re the finest operatives that I can spare right now. As for Edina, I know you handled the logistics to get them into the Land of the Iron Winds last time, but Birnau requires more finesse. I think you’re better off managing it in person. And of course I’ll need the dreamstrider. We’ve already too many resources tied up in watching the gates and patrolling the sea for signs of an impending attack. I’ll send Jorn with you for security, but it’s the best I can offer.”

My heart plummets as every eye in the room falls on me. Color rushes to Vera’s face, even as it drains from my own. Two words hang amongst us all, denser and ranker than the worst sewer stench. Our shared failure and our overshadowing shame.

Stargazer Incident.

“No,” Vera whispers. “No. I’ll go with her on trivial missions—fluffy balls and the like—but I don’t trust her with something so dangerous.”

“Livia?” the Minister asks. “Can I trust you to pull your weight?”

I freeze under his gaze. How can I defend myself against her fears? I’ve earned all of it and more. “You don’t need me,” I say. “Vera’s right. You’re safer without me.”

Minister Durst presses his lips together. “Were it not for the threat of this mystic, these schemes involving Oneiros itself, then I’d agree. But the Commandant is too paranoid to trust anyone beyond those already in his adviser’s circle. I need your skill.” I can’t blame him for looking so grim. I’d be angry, too, at being backed into such a corner, forced to rely on my skill.

Edina nods, looking down at her notes. “We need Livia. It’s our best chance at getting the Commandant to tell us what we need to know.”

Vera sputters like she’s swallowed turnip juice. “But Minister, you can’t possibly—If it’s only a dreamstriding mission for Livia—I mean, she and Brandt met with the Commandant himself without our presence! You don’t need me—”

“Yes, but when the Iron Council meets in Birnau, it hosts the Commandant
and
all his deputies,” Minister Durst says.

Edina nods. “I need all of us there so we can split up and cast a wide net.”

“And we need Livia most of all,” Brandt says, far more confidently than I deserve. “She’s our best chance at getting right there in the midst of the Commandant and his private conversations. She can go places no one else can.” I manage a faint smile his way, though I still ache from how he left me after Hesse’s death.

Vera glances from Brandt to me and back, lips twisting. “Ahh. I see.” She turns toward Edina. “No, you’re absolutely right. Brandt and Livia work so well together.”

Oh, Vera’s vile tonight! Whatever she imagines is between Brandt and me can never be, and soon, he’ll be gone for good. Edina, for her part, looks equanimous as ever, but I’m blushing straight up into my scalp. “What about the Farthingers?” I ask hastily, desperate to take the attention off Vera’s comment.

“Don’t need to be involved. If you’re right and they are a few steps ahead of us on this puzzle, then we’re better off letting them rest on their laurels a bit longer.” Durst claps his hands together and rubs them, as if wiping the whole affair from his skin. “All right! We’ll put a few additional pointed questions to Lady Twyne and see what more we can wring out of her. You’ll all depart two mornings from now—Edina, can you have all the necessary bribes and logistical arrangements settled by then?”

“Yes, sir,” she says.

Brandt leaps to his feet and issues a stiff nod to Durst. “We won’t let you down.”

Edina moves toward the door, but nearly collides into Vera; the two of them exchange looks that could peel paint. “After you,” Edina says.

“Oh, no, I insist,” Vera retorts. “I know better than to turn my back to an Alizard.”

Poor Jorn. He’s going to wonder what grave punishment he’s being sent to endure.

“Livia?” Durst asks, as the others depart. “A moment, if I may.”

Brandt’s gaze meets mine, and he gives me a quick nod before leaving. I sink back into my seat, as if my legs have gone to gelatin underneath me.

“I know our time together has been … difficult. For both of us.” Durst pinches the end of his goatee. “We both believed in Hesse’s research, and expected great things to come from it, many of which it simply could not deliver.”

Much as I’d like to protest, I can’t argue with what he’s said. The memory of listening at the door of Hesse’s office, overhearing Durst and Hesse argue about bringing me into the Ministry’s care is fresh. It had felt like a dream brought to life, leaving my tunneler life behind, but the reality has been much less enchanted.